Migration
by The Cowgirl Bookworm
Summary: Anahita, a member of the Ottoman Assassins, is reassigned from her place in the Tokapi Palace to Florence. What she finds there is new, exhilarating, and oh so more deadly. Can she maneuver her way through the dealings of the squabbling houses of the Renaissance, or will she flounder in the waves of intrigue?
1. Chapter 1

Anahita made her way to the rafiq's study. The rafiq, Aalim, was an old man who seemed far too kind to be an attention. His bristly beard didn't strike out in intimidation, it made him seem more like a grandfather than a killer. But Aalim had been fearsome in his day, but now the Assassins had gone underground instead of out in the open. Anahita knelt by the cellar door that lead to his study.

_It used to be these __bureaus were grand affairs, _she thought as she knocked out the secret rhythm, _and now we hide like worms. _The door opened, a scrawny urchin looking at her. Anahita bristled at being examined, but the urchin stood aside. It used to be the novices were skilled fighters, who went out and did the task of killing. Now the novices, if there were any, were urchins who managed to collect little bits of information for the rafiq.

"Anahita, such anger does not suit you." Aalim said as she walked in. She could say this for him, he had made the cellar as comfortable as he could. He gestured to the fire that burned brightly in the fireplace he had installed. "See how the fire consumes? It destroys the log and leaves only ashes behind. Do not let the fire overwhelm you, we have no use for ashes."

She felt a stinging in her cheeks. "I was merely considering our former status, rafiq. We used to be proud, and now we huddle beneath Istanbul."

"The proud shall fall, and when they land they shatter like clay." Aalim held out a cup of camel's milk for her. "We must humble ourselves to our cause, and land like a cat. We may be knocked down, but we shall always land on our feet."

"Aalim, not all cats are so lucky." Anahita replied, sipping the milk. It was frothy, and cool from being underground. "A young kit may not be so fortunate."

"But we are not young."

"But even an old tom may die from a fall."

"Enough, we have endured. Other Brotherhoods were not so lucky." Aalim held up his hand. "What news from Tokapi?"

"Mehmed does not ignore the affairs of Europe." Anahita looked at Aalim expectantly. "The Sultan closely follows the dealings of the noble families of the Papal states. In a letter to General Muhammed, he stated that infighting among them allows the army to divert the attention from the western border to securing the state from within."

"Does he speak of us?"

"No, merely of dissidents in the city. He has no knowledge of our presence."

"And you left no trace of yourself in his quarters?" Aalim asked, already knowing the answer. Anahita had been sent to the Tokapi court, a lady of a family closely allied to the Assassins. From Tokapi she kept her fingers on the heartbeat of the empire. She would dismiss her maids when she reached her rooms, then slip into her Assassin's robes and scale the palace. Usually she had no issue slipping into Mehmed's bedchamber and reading his correspondence. Other times she would have to leave it, guards around the balcony she typically leapt over.

"They haven't tried the sand trick in three months; usually Mehmed is so focused on the concubine he's got in his bed."

"Do not grow too confident, even Altair had to humble himself." Aalim warned. Anahita nodded her understanding, then rose from the chair.

"With your permission, rafiq. I feel the need to train." Anahita bowed her head. Aalim nodded, and she turned away. The cellar underneath this house contained a long hallway that had been set up as a small archery range. She took her bow off of the wall, cradling it. A gift from her father, an old Assassin himself, it was a long yew bow that had taken her two years to finally draw. The arrows themselves, fletched with any feathers she could find, were her own.

She loved the feel of it in her hands, the knowledge that she could bring death with a single movement. Others preferred the gauntlet blades Assassins had used for years, and while did appreciate the feel of a dagger on her wrist, it was the bow that drove her. The bow that could end a life as easily as a dagger, and that kept her away from blood. When she drew the string back by her cheek, her fingers holding the arrow.

"Nothing is true-"

_Fwizz! _The arrow thudded into the target.

"Everything is permitted." Another arrow touched the string.

"Nothing is true-"

The process continued until the target was filled, and her fingers ached. Hours later a hunched over woman made her way towards the Imperial district. She entered a seedy looking tavern, and moments later a stunning beauty emerged. The soldiers guarding the Tokapi palace nodded to her, letting her past. For here was Lady Anahita, returned from her weekly trip to care for the poor and hungry. And look, there she goes into the palace, her maids quickly attending her.

The guards did not notice how an urchin took off back towards the city once she had entered.


	2. Chapter 2

That night she bathed, anointed herself with rose oil, and waited. Sure enough, the minister of coin appeared shortly. Anahita stood, wrapped in the sheerest silk she could buy. Hakem, for that was the minister's name, could almost rip it off with just his eyes. Hakem was not the greatest lover she had ever known, but he enjoyed speaking on matters of state afterwards. The Assassins did not care how information was gained, just that it was.

When they lay back on the pillows, Hakem spoke of what the Sultan planned. Twenty years past his conquest of the city, and parts of it were still rubble. Taxes would be raised, used to fund the reconstruction of the city. The people would labor under this burden, but such was the will of the rulers. Hakem had advised against that, saying the people would be taxed beyond their means. Anahita soothed his conscious, telling him that the Sultan would choose correctly in the end. Hakem left soon, for even if they were lovers it would not be proper for him to be found with her.

Especially when word got back to his wife.

Anahita passed the next week as she usually did. She listened to men speak on matters of state, not that they thought she understood them. She bathed in the luxurious baths of the palace, took walks in the garden and discovered a few lover's trysts. And each night she slipped into the breeches and robes of an Assassin and crept into the Sultan's chambers. The red sash around her hips barely ruffled the air, the curved daggers glinting from her belt.

She returned to Aalim, with more information than before.

Aalim offered her milk, as usual, and they sat down to discuss. He nodded through her explanation of what was going on at court, who was dallying with whom, where money was being funneled, where the army was to march. Aalim took this all in with a single nod, before he pulled a letter from his robes. He held it out to her, and Anahita took a minute to understand what had been written. It was not in Arabic, but in Italian. Luckily most novices were taught several languages so she was able to read it with ease. It was coded with a simple design, it took no time at all for her to understand.

_Rafiq,_

_I write in haste from Florence. Templars here begin to move, their plans are being put into place. Unfortunately, I cannot be everywhere at once. My family is at risk when I do my work, my three sons who are innocent of our ways, my wife and daughter. They are the innocents, and I know that our enemies will not stay their blades from their flesh. I could seek elsewhere for help, that I know. The Italian Brotherhood, while tarnished, is still extensive. But the presence of a thief in my house would rouse __suspicion, and my brother cannot leave his army as much as I would like him to._

_And so I write to you, Rafiq. Send me an Assassin, someone skilled in our arts. I need him to be able to kill a man with no remorse, to guard my family when I am away. I know this will take an agent from you, but I ask in the spirit of our Brotherhood._

_Waiting for your reply,_

_Giovanni Auditore_

"I take it you have replied?" Anahita laid the letter down on the table between them. Aalim nodded in answer. "Let me guess, you plan to send Akani or Persha?" Akani and Persha were two of the Assassins in their bureau, both trained killers who seemed to take too much pleasure from their work.

Aalim shook his head, smiling.

"Then who?"

"You."

"What? Aalim you can't be serious." Anahita barked, rising form her chair. The rafiq reached over and gently guided her back down, patting her hand.

"Child, who else would be better for the task? You know the ways of courtly intrigue, languages that could help fight the Templars there. I have seen you kill a man and not bat an eyelash, but you do not take joy from it. Akani enjoys that kill to much, the pain brings him pleasure. Persha, the man does not even know the language. A large man would arouse suspicion, bring the Templars down around our heads."

"But a woman wouldn't." Anahita snorted. It made sense, strange sense, but sense. Her voice was bitter. "I could advise him, watch the family, and carry out any tasks needed. I understand."

"Don't be angry, I don't want you to think that this is a punishment. It is merely a way for you to broaden your views, to see the world." Aalim replied. "Tokapi is small, but our order reaches across the world."

"I'm not a novice!" Anahita burst. She immediately felt shame reaching across her face, and bowed her head to Aalim. "I am sorry, I should not have yelled."

"It is a trying time." Aalim then went on to explain how she would be ferried along the coast of Greece, up into the Adriatic, and finally let off at Venice. There was an Assassin contact there, who would provide her with clothing, her cover story, and transportation to Florence. The ship left in three days, which meant she did not have much time to prepare. The rumor mongers in Tokapi immediately began to speculate on where the lady Anahita was headed. The maids who helped pack her chest thought that Hakem's wife must have found out. The chefs, who had sent up food to the woman, said that her father must have recalled her from court for her wild ways. The porter who took her chests to the wagons sad he heard the clink of weapons and that she was secretly a Christian and was going back to her people. The captain of the ship, a man who had been allied with teh Assassins for years, didn't give two shits about the rumors. He made that perfectly clear, ordering her to stay below decks, not come up unless he ordered her too, and for the sake of all that was holy, to stay out of his damn way while they made the journey to Venice.


	3. Chapter 3

Two months later Anahita stood, veiled, on the docks of Venice. Her chests were stacked beside her, large brown eyes scanning the crowd. Most passed a curious eye over her, several men guffawing that she must be uglier than a two florin whore if the veil indicated anything. Anahita heard their insults, then let them go. All she needed right now was to find her contact. The Assassins in Venice were thieves, apparently they specialized in stealing from the elite of the city. But she could not distinguish them from the crowd, none of them wore Assassin's robes. Anahita sighed, and focused completely on the fact she needed to find her contact.

And then she opened her eyes.

The people of Venice now appeared in various colors. The crowds milling around appeared blue, indicating that they would not harm her if she did something or assassinated someone. A few city guards were red, the crimson colors swirling around them. Ah, but there was a man marked in gold. Anahita blinked, and the colors faded. Her gift was one not often seen, manifesting itself in only a few Assassins. Anahita stepped through the crowds, coming before the golden man.

"Nothing is true." She stated. _If you are my __contact, you know our ways._

"Everything is permitted." The man replied. "Welcome to Venice, I was hoping you would find me."

"I was hoping you would meet me off the boat." Anahita snapped. "Apparently veiled women are almost unknown here. I would prefer not to be known, in case I have to disappear later."

The man laughed. "You are far to serious, my men will attend to your luggage." He gestured to a pair of men who were loading her chests into a small boat. He walked over, then helped her down.

"Christ, Antonio. What's she packing, rocks?" One of the men griped as he went to the pole on the stern. He slowly polled them through the canals of Venice. Anahita had expected this, she knew some of _Italia_. What she hadn't anticipated was the smell. The canals smelled like human waste, almost a dead, decaying smell. She pressed her veil closer to her face, hoping she wouldn't gag.

"How was your journey?" Antonio asked, lounging against the side of the boat. Anahita watched him before answering. He was calm, almost way too calm. Antonio had long black hair, brushing his shoulders. He appeared calm, relaxed, but as Anahita looked she knew he was on edge. It was all an act, and she knew if any trouble presented itself the dagger he wore on his belt would be out in an instant.

"Cramped."

"Ah, it could have been worse. Could be dead." Antonio replied with a flash of a grin. "Your Italian is excellent by the way, just the slightest bit of an accent."

"Damn, I was hoping that I wouldn't." Anahita then let off with a series of swears she had learned from the crew, whose Italian had been limited to asking for whores and insults. Antonio appeared impressed though, and his men seemed to relax a little as she cursed the mother of her Italian tutor. The gondola bumped up against a quay, and Antonio helped her out. She looked at the rather run down area, the general filth that had accumulated. "Your bureau looks a little," She tried to think of a tactful word. "crowded."

"We aren't the proudest, the richest, but we are the true nobles of Venice." Antonio smiled. "This city runs on us, and we on it." Anahita rolled her eyes a little at his theatrics. _More like a symbiotic relationship. But who would be the parasite? _"It is my home, my people."

"And you protect them."

"We try. They call us thieves, whores, but we keep this city running. Without us, Venice would grind to a halt." Antonio smirked, quickly ushering her into one of the buildings. He took her up a few floors, before gesturing to a door. "This will be your room for the time being, my me will bring your things up. If you want to go out, feel free. But be careful." Anahita nodded, stepping inside. It was nothing compared to her old rooms in Tokapi. The bed was scratchy, filled with straw and no doubt fleas. The window was grimy, the ewer and basin provided were chipped and cracked. As she was examining the view out of the window, the men came up with her chests, leaving them stacked along a wall. She moved over, and after checking that the door was locked, stepped out of her dress and into her Assassin's robes. Her hidden blade she strapped to her right hand, her leather finger protectors going on as well. It was one of her own inventions, a glove that protected her fingers from the bowstring, but let her feel the strength in the string. She slung her quiver onto her back, placing her bow with it. A dagger and slim sword were tucked into her belt. With a booted kick she opened the window, climbing out of it up to the roof of the building.

The roofs of Venice were tiled, and made far too much noise for her to run out in the open. Instead she flitted from shadow to shadow, watching the people below. What she saw was a mercantile people, a people of laborers, nobles, and guards. The guards were rigorous in their patrols, but only around the cargo near the docks. She saw Antonio's thieves make their way though the masses of people, cutting purses and picking pockets. She leapt from building to building, watching for guards. Slowly she made her way through the districts, headed for the large fort that dominated a part of town.

"The Doge has decried that a new tax will be levied to pay for the Arsenal!" A herald cried to a crowd.

"He's taxing us enough already!" A man yelled from the crowd. "I can barely feed my children for all his taxes!" The crowd murmured their agreements, more voices joining the man. The crowd was quickly turning on the herald. Anahita watched from her perch on the roof, interested.

"The Arsenal protects our interests!" The herald yelled.

"Fuck his Arsenal!" A trader yelled. "I haven't made money in three years because of his goddamn Arsenal!" A bottle flew from the crowd, smashing to bits near the herald's feet. The man looked panicked, realizing he had lost control of his crowd.

"Guards!" He called. "Guards, to me!" A contingent of guards emerged from underneath an arch, their gilded armor flashing in the sunlight. Anahita shifted farther into the shadows, watching as the guards arrested a few of the rabble makers and the rest scattered. The guards marched away, prisoners dangling, beaten, from their grasp. Anahita watched the scene with a bitter taste in her mouth. She moved through the rest of the district, noticing a large practice yard outside an old warehouse. She dropped onto the wall, then down into the yard. She took a couple steps forward, noting the dummies lined up.

She only turned when she felt the steel on her neck.

Anahita whirled, drawing her sword in a smooth motion that whipped the broadsword away from her throat. The man standing before her was older, his hair cropped short but still more black than gray. He growled at her, hauling his sword back for a heavy blow. Anahita danced back, letting his blow slice through air. She cast her eyes around, looking for a way out. A fight was not something she wanted right now.

"_Bastardo_! Stand and fight!" The man growled, thrusting forward. She slid to the side, unwilling to hit him back. "Fucking hell, I'll cut your balls off when I get you!"

"Have fun trying that." Anahita panted as she jumped back from yet another blow. Her fingers found a rough wall behind her, and she quickly jumped up to the top and out of the way. The swordsman let his guard drop, staring at her.

"A woman?"

"Does it really matter?" Anahita spat back. "I'll be gone in a moment."

"A moment, _signorina_." The man set his sword down on the ground. "Would you perhaps be this Anahita that Antonio was waiting for?"

"If I was?" Anahita slid her legs over the side of the wall, letting them dangle as she sat.

"Then I would welcome you, a fellow _Asasino_. After I apologized for my behavior." The man bowed his head. "Bartolomeo d'Alviano. _Condottiero _of Venice." Anahita lifted her eyebrows, unsure of what he meant by his title.

"Contractor? A merchant?"

"A mercenary leader, I collect the contracts and lead my men." Bartolomeo lifted his sword back into his hands. "Me, and Bianca." He held the sword out for her inspection. Anahita took her time, noting the fine craftsmanship of the steel, the razor edge honed by hours of work, but she also looked at the man behind her. He was a brash, robust man. Wide in the shoulders, chest, and strong enough to handle that blade like it was a feather.

"Beautiful." Anahita leapt from the wall. She returned her own sword to her belt, gently touching her bow. It had no name, but she loved it just the same. It had been with her through hard times and good, thick and thin. It didn't have any carving, but was made for service. Not ornamentation, it was an instrument of killing.

Just like her, Antonio, and Bartolomeo.

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**AN: Could you guys leave a review? I know people are reading, I just want to hear from you!**


	4. Chapter 4

Anahita danced her dagger across her fingers, watching Bartolomeo and Antonio. Both men had come up to her room, a week after her arrival, to discuss her role in the coming weeks. Antonio gave her a look and she set the dagger aside, instead turning to her pile of arrows. With a practiced hand she began to fletch them, listening as Antonio talked. Antonio liked to talk she decided, but she let him.

"The Auditores, the head of the Italian Assassins, are a noble family in Florence." Antonio began. "Giovanni runs the Medici banks while Lorenzo deals with Florence."

"Does Lorenzo know about us?" Anahita raised her eyebrows.

"Both yes, and no. Lorenzo knows that Giovanni works to protect the people of Florence, but he doesn't know everything. Now, you will be protecting his family. We've come up with several different stories for you to choose from." Antonio gestured for Bartolomeo to come forward. She looked through them, trying to find the one that would inspire the least amount of gossip. There were stories she'd used before, a bastard daughter come home, the betrothed of one of the sons. What interested her was the last one.

"Daughter of a Christian trader in the Holy Land." Anahita mused. "I could do that."

"You'd be expected to keep tabs on Florence, and send reports to Monteriggoni." Bartolomeo told her. "Can you do that?"

"It's what I did in Tokapi." Anahita grunted, returning to her fletching.

"Don't be to confident. Florence is a pit of snakes." Bartolomeo cursed. "Damn shame that they run the area, it would be easier to hold if we had Assassins in charge." Anahita watched him finger Bianca's pommel. "But, we do what we can."

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Anahita arrived in Florence dressed in the latest style. The dress was constricting, made it hard for her to walk, and there was no way she would be able to fight in it. Antonio had filched some noble lady's wardrobe that was on its way to Venice, and had sent it to a tailor to get it altered. Three weeks after her arrival in venice she left for Florence. Bartolomeo's men carried her chests behind her as their guide directed them towards the _Palazzo Auditore_. A whole section of the city appeared to be under the Auditore's control. Red and gold banners dangled from arches, windows, and flapped in the breeze. Anahita watched the half eagle flutter in the wind, subconsciously touching her own red and gold dress. The guide bowed to them after he had taken them up to the entrance, his hand held out for a few coins. Anahita dropped a few florins into his palm, then stepped forward.

She knocked on the door, a solid piece of dark wood.

"Yes." A voice called out, and she opened the door. The office she walked into could have belonged to any merchant. Portraits of old rulers and patrons were displayed on the wall, bright against the dark red paint. Bookshelves were cluttered with volumes and scrolls. The desk, its pigeonholes filled, was littered with quills, ink and wadded up papers. The man behind it though, he was interesting. His hooked nose gave him a regal looks, his brown hair handing lank over his eyes. His face was kind though, wrinkles betraying the fact that he smiled more than frowned. "Who are you?"

"Anahita D'Martino." She replied, sketching a quick bow. Anahita had long forgot her own last name, instead adopting one for whatever situation she was in. "The daughter of Angelo, from Istanbul."

"Ah, welcome." Giovanni stood. "I was wondering when you would appear." He offered her a hand, which she shook. "I trust Venice is well?"

"Antonio and Bartolomeo send their regards." Anahita informed him of what she had learned as Giovanni showed her around the _Palazzo_. Her rooms were much larger than the ones in Venice, the bed stuffed with feathers. Her chests were placed in a room of their own, a hammered circle of bronze above a table. Anahita held back one chest though, the one containing her weapons and robes. She looked to Giovanni. "When will I be able to attend to," she paused, "other matters?"

"Night, or early morning. But be warned, the city guards patrol the rooftops." Giovanni said, watching as she pulled out her bow. It had made the travel well, tucked away in a silk veil and cushion. "I'd prefer if there was no death. The city would grow suspicious."

"I prefer it that way too." Anahita smiled. Giovanni walked her around the rest of the _Palazzo_, showing her his family. Maria was a kind woman, religious and happy. When Giovanni told her about her 'father', she gave Anahita an embrace and told her that she was always welcome in their home. She met Frederico, who promptly declared that she was far to pretty to let live in an inn. Anahita blushed around him, she had never quite managed to control her embarrassment around men. Compliments just cut to the core of her. Ezio, the middle brother, was not here, apparently he was out on the town. Giovanni showed her to the last of the rooms, opening the door.

"Petruccio, we have a guest." Giovanni spoke softly, moving to the bed. The child in it, pale and dark haired, perked up slightly when he heard his father. Anahita stepped forward, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." She said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"What's your name?" He asked, sitting up. Anahita could see the sweat that covered his skin, the labored movements of his chest. _He won't live much longer__. Poor child._

"Anahita D'Martino. I'm going to stay with your family for awhile." Anahita tilted her head slightly. "Would you like that?"

"Do you know any stories?"

"Lots of them."

"Stay! Tell me all the stories you know." Petruccio clapped his hands, before coughing. Giovanni reached over, patting his son's back. Anahita went back to her rooms later, sharpening her weapons before going down to dinner. The entire family was gathered, and Anahita was delighted to meet Claudia. Claudia was a bright and bubbly girl, telling Anahita that she had to describe the styles of Istanbul as well as she could. Claudia offered her ribbons for her hair, and smiled happily when Anahita said that they suited Claudia more than herself.

Ezio, Ezio was different.

He was a few years younger than Anahita, and devilishly handsome. He knew it to, flirting with her even at the table. Anahita rebuffed him, claiming that she was not looking for a man right now. He didn't give up though, saying that he would be here when she was ready. Maria berated her son, and Ezio backed down. As Anahita stood in her room, drawing on her robes, she could see why Giovanni wanted his family protected. They were good people, good people that didn't deserve to be caught up in the fight between Assassins and Templars. She leapt lightly out of her room, swinging herself up onto the roof. She ducked back when she saw another figure dashing across the roof, its clothing familiar. _Ezio, what are you doing?_

She followed him, keeping to the shadows. Ezio watched his back, turning every once in awhile to make sure he wasn't being followed. She darted forward when he wasn't looking, hiding when he did. She watched him jump to the ground from a perch, calling out to a room above. Anahita smiled when she saw the woman open the window, welcoming Ezio with open arms.

Boys never did change.

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**AN: Thank you for reviewing! Please leave a review for this chapter!**


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